Untitled

 A gentle wind blows
Fragrant eucalyptus swaying
to Nature’s inaudible beats
The Sun sits upon it’s cosmic throne
Casting a lazy golden glow over the world
A gentle soothing warmth
I can see it, not feel it
For I am separated
By dirty glass and rusting iron
I can imagine
The heady smell of freshness
Of freedom and the vast open
My heart yearns to break free
Escape these cold confines
Escape to the joy
Awaiting me outside
For therein lies freedom’s
Warmth and euphoria
And herein lies the cold
the darkness and despair
setting roots in my soul
I fight to break through
Shatter the walls
And I succeed
Weary of heart and body
But gone is the fragrance
Of the dancing eucalyptus
Dying, diseased remains
Of a once mighty tree
Are all I can see
Gone is the smell
of liberation and joy
The wind is a demon
Cold and merciless
Cutting through me like
Hot steel through butter
I dodge a car here
I dodge a bus there
an infuriated trucker
bellowing curse for me to hear
Bitter is the taste of disappointment
Of expectations run to the ground
I reel at this mighty blow
My hope ripped to shreds
And I flee to the safety
Of those and old and familiar
Dark, cold confines
Yet I am glad
For the world is beautiful again
The imagination runs free
And that dirty glass and rusty iron grill
Shield it from the ravages
Of stark reality

 Currently listening to-  Mekaal Hasan Band – Sajan

Of Kindness and Weakness

 

The above picture is by photographer Andres Serrano and is called Piss Christ. It depicts a plastic crucifix submerged in a glass of Serrano’s urine. There was this Secret Santa thingy last Christmas in an internet community I’m a part of and I sent this to a guy and he took it so badly. He sent me a stiffly formal letter about how badly it hurt him that I had practically pissed on his religion. Apparently he had thought higher of me than that. He said it was a lame, tasteless joke. Now I didn’t want to get into an argument with him so I apologised and we left it at that.

But in my opinion his reaction was very prudish. He did not interpret the picture right. It is not offensive. Rather, it represents how we are treating the words and teachings of our holy men and gods, in whose name we burn and kill. What better time to reflect upon that than Christmas?

We really are pissing on Christ. And Mohammed, Buddha, Mahaveera and countless others. Love thy neighbour. Forget the broad sense. Do we even do that literally? Are we kind to our neighbours? I hardly even talk to my neighbours. And they’re none too friendly either. We fail as a society. We just cannot get along. In the big cosmic picture, mankind is a stubborn stain.

Shopkeepers stare at me incredulously when I thank them after making a purchase. They never expect gratitude. The general mentality is that there is no reason to thank them. They haven’t gone out of the way to do something for you, have they? You’re paying them for the stuff you get and they’re just doing their jobs. And profiting from it. What most people tend to miss that appreciation and gratitude need no reason. What does it cost one to be kind to another human being? To make them feel a little happier and end up feeling great yourself in the process? I always get a nice, warm feeling inside me when I do some act of kindness. I try not to take too much time to answer the door when the mailman or the cable guy or some such person comes calling. My mother tends to take her own sweet time. When I tell her to hurry up she says there is no reason to. It’s his job to wait. She can’t just drop everything and rush to the door for the mailman.

It is so much harder to be gentle and kind than to be an asshole. Yet it is seen as a sign of weakness. People tend to take you for granted and take advantage of you unless you act tough. I get beaten up in class by my peers all the time. You know why? Because I hardly ever hit back. I try not to be crude and primitive. While it is just their idea of fun and male-bonding, they need to realize it hurts the other person no matter what the intentions. This is why I don’t hit people for the heck of it. And that makes me the class wimp.

But I am beginning to sound like a saint. I am not a saint. I had an argument with the rather rude guy at the milk booth around 2 years ago during which I told him where eh could keep his milk and walked off. He was an elderly person, around 60 or more years of age. I never went to the milk booth again. So yeah, I have engaged in my share of assholery too. I am so not a saint.

I found out some days ago that he died in a road accident early one morning on his way to the milk booth. I loathed the guy and his rude ways but it made me feel sad. I wondered whether it is right to hold grudges for so long. I don’t think he hardly even gave me thought after our argument but I feel bad the whole thing happened. I feel like I should have swallowed my pride and patched things up. But that would be akin to tolerating assholery. Life is short and precious to be wasted quarreling with other people. I struggle to strike a balance between being kind and not being a pushover. I think once we manage that the world will be a much better place.

And then there were sixteen…

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Timothy_Dexter_(businessman)

He is my hero.

www.moby.com/journal

My saviour during times of infuriating boredom.

R.I.P Heath Ledger

Yours is now going to be the best cinematic portrayal of the Joker ever. Dark Knight is going to be a box office hit. No one wants to say something negative about someone soon after his/her death. Even if it’s the truth. Instead they choose to exaggerate. Turn deceased person into the epitome of goodness. A saint.

Something which was beautifully portrayed in an episode of Dawson’s Creek.

It is too late. I am numb with cold and boredom.

As for the title. I have no idea what it means.

Currently Listening To: Parikrama – Open Skies

Artsy fartsy

I paint. Sometimes. Not very well. See for yourself.

http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a53/barud45/Submerged.jpg

Floating

Mind Spectrum

Elements

I don’t have anything else to say.

Toodle-oo

Random thought: Boxing Day doesn’t mean you get to punch people. Please send bail money!

Currently Listening To: Silk Route – Humsafar

Happy 100

A Time Machine of Tar

I walk over that concrete pavement
Hustle and bustle all around
Busy men, they pas me by
Not a glance to spare
Honking horns and roaring engines
Interspersed with shouts and laughs
The world around me is alive, a buzz
A cacophony I can stand not

All the roads merge into one
Around that trinity of lights
The road I seek lies ahead
A black stretch of tar in between
A narrow dusty path
No horns, no engines, nor shouts and laughs
Silent the path is, but not really so
The silence of nature

I walk along the dusty track
Tranquil nature all around
Little shacks flank the path
green fields stretching to horizon beyond
An old lady, she stares at me
Her eyes, they seem to speak
Pity not, O little lad, poor
I may be, but unhappy I am not, have seldom been

Ive seen the world pass me by
A whirlwind of ecstasy and grief
I regret not, being poor
I am merely glad to have lived
I have as much as I need,
Food, water and roof
And that to me, is as rich as can be
For relative are rich and poor, don’t you agree?

I pass the old lady by,
pondering those unspoken words
The air grows smoky, the stoves are lit
And thick is the air with aroma
Of the simple food of the peasantry
As mouth watering, as any delicacy
A creaking wooden cart nears me
A family going out to the city’s marvels see

Such a wonderful place this path
A world of it’s own
Green fields and humble shacks
A happier place I have never seen
Primitive, and as such delightful
Almost as going back in time
I see the stretch of road and think
Like a time machine of tar…

This poem has a story behind it. That will be the topic of my next post.

You must be wondering about the post’s title. My blog received 100 hits yesterday. Thought I’d let everyone know. Thanks for visiting my blog and keeping me motivated enough to post somewhat regularly. Let’s hope for a faster 200 hits.

There’s a song stuck in my head

Has it ever happened to you? It’s like, there’s a song playing inside your head and the player is set on repeat. I’ve even sometimes caught myself singing these songs. Or rather, howling these songs. Most of the time, I don’t even like the song. And it is so annoying! Having a stupid song playing in your head from morning to night is so annoying! I have also sometimes caught myself ‘dancing’ to these tunes. I dance like a pregnant cow.

For the past 2 weeks, I have that song Welcome, from the movie of the same name stuck in my head. I detest the song, I detest the movie but I keep singing it.

Strange is Love…

I am in love. Yep. There is this girl who sits behind me in class, tall and kinda cute. Some weeks ago, I was working on a poem in class, lost in a world of words when this gentle sound caught my attention. Laughter. Balm of the heart. I forgot poetry, my attention transfixed upon that laughter, my heart soaring at that sweet sound. Like a merry stream flowing over a bed of pebbles, tinkling and gurgling with sheer joy.

An image formed in my mind of a forest, tall, leafy trees, canopies intertwined and golden sunlight filtering through gaps, falling over a running stream. So vibrant and delightful. And in the middle of the class, on that cold winter morning, it seemed as if the air was heavy with the earthy, heady, intoxicating smell of trees and wet soil. And that was the moment I fell in love. Not with the girl behind me, mind you. Just her laughter. I fell in love with her laughter.

There are times when I’ve had the urge to make her laugh just hear that sound. But I always restrained myself. The rarer I hear that sound, the sweeter it seems. My heart soars each time she laughs, and I too revel in her joy.

Taare Zameen Par – Review

The story centres around 8 year old Ishaan Nandkishore Awasthi played by the talented Darsheel Safary, who happens to be dyslexic. He does not perform well in studies but loves painting. Oblivious to his problem, his parents pack him off to boarding school, hoping that the strict atmosphere will change Ishaan for the better. But boarding school brings about no positive change. Rather, with the added trauma of separation from his family, it only worsens his mental condition. Soon he recedes into a cocoon, becoming sullen and unresponsive and scared. Always scared.

Enter temporary art teacher Ram Shankar Nikumbh played by Aamir Khan, who charms the students with his out-of-the-box approach. He recognises Ishaan’s problem and convinces his parents and the Principal of the school that he merely needs extra help to be at par with his peers. He takes it upon himself to give him this extra help and slowly brings about an improvement in the child’s academics and also brings him out of the shell he had withdrawn into.

The script is strong. The characters are well etched and there aren’t many of the caricatures and cliches that Bollywood is prone to when dealing with child characters and adult characters in a film about children. The children in the film aren’t singing-dancing innocent little things. Nor do they spout wisdom like an old woman. The situations and characters are real and believable. As an Indian boy who was nine merely 8 years ago, I can see myself in very similar situations. Amol Gupte has done a fine job.

Another interesting feature is the unusual and rather effective use of animation at various points to portray they way Ishaan’s mind works.

The performances are fantastic. Young Darsheel Safary does a wonderful job. He acts with his entire body, the emotions are powerfully portrayed. Aamir Khan, who does not appear until half the movie is over, is as good as ever. The actors who play Ishaan’s parents, have also done a great job.

The music too, is pleasing to the ear. Soothing, soft, and emotional at places, typical guitar dominated rock at others. The  songs also carry the story forward very nicely, becoming an integral part of the plot. Something that is very rare in Bollywood.
That said, the film does have it’s share of cons and short-comings. Ishaan’s improvement in academics appears too rapid making it just a tad unbelievable. The fact that the teachers take little offence at their caricatures during the Art Mela and freely allow themselves to be ridiculed seems unlikely. No teacher has such a great sense of humour when among students, to my knowledge. Cinematic license I guess. It did go with the mood and feel of the scene.

All in all, one of the best films to have been made in recent times. Everyone should watch it, parents, teachers, children. Entertaining yet thought provoking, but not preachy. A must-watch. Indeed so.

Rating: 4.5/5

I write poetry too. Sorta…

In severe violation of all 3 of my New Year’s Resolutions, I have neither exercised, written anything or updated my blog since January 1st. Yeah… I broke the resolutions on the second day of the new year itself. I am so awesome. But, this time I have a perfectly valid excuse. Haha! I was sick. Fucking sick. Pounding headaches, sore throats, runny nose et al.

Anyway, I started writing poetry recently. The following is the first poem I have ever written. Well, there were those crappy ‘poems’ I wrote when I was 10, but let’s try to forget those…

Torvanin the Conqueror

A wall of shields, glinting spears aloft;
On the flanks, steel riders- majestic, resolute;
Golden standard at the fore;
The standard of Torvanin;
King, their King

A sea of expressions – the warriors’ faces
Fear, anticipation, even excitement – the young feel;
But the veteran knows the horror that is war;
And yet he too is not spared;
The fear, the anticipation, subdued but never gone

Facing them, another wall of shields and blades;
Prepared, the men are, to bloody the land;
The fruit of their sweaty toil;
The enemy nears, the command is given;
And thus the struggle begins

Rent is the air with the clang of blades;
The sickening crunch of metal against flesh;
The despairing cries of men;
Prey to the blade of the enemy;
The ground aflood with blood and bone

‘Tis but a bloody tug-of-war now;
Human walls pushing and shoving;
hacking and stabbing;
In the name of Torvanin;
King, their King

The visors are down, the lance levelled;
And the riders charge like rolling thunder;
The peasants break like brittle glass;
Trampled to the ground by steel hooves;
The Riders of Torvanin – mighty are they

And the battle draws to an end;
Victorious, are they again;
Another land to chant his name;
Torvanin the conqueror;
King, their King

Many who read the poem found it uninsteresting, mainly because it deals with war, for which normal people do not share my obsession.

I am yet sick so that is it for tonight. Next update will be tomorrow. Hopefully.

Currently listening to: The Beatles – With A Little Help From My Friends

 

 

Age of Empires can never get old

I am a huge RTS fan. And the Age of Empires series remains one of my favourites. Though I didn’t like Age of Mythology and most of what I saw of AoE3. Anyway, after 9 years of play, I finally managed to get AoE2:TC multiplayer running properly. And then followed an entire day of AoE2 for me and friends.

We started off as 4 players on the Britain map. I picked Briton, my friends, let’s call them Friend1, Friend2 and Friend3, picked Celts, Franks and Spanish respectively. It was a deathmatch and we agreed to not attack each other for the first twenty minutes. I, luckily, started off in what is roughly Scotland. A good defensible position on the map. Friend 1 and I entered into an uneasy alliance which involved me garrisoning troops in two of his castles and him sending me resources. Because you see, he is great at economy building but lacks in military skill and I am vice versa. His base was in Ireland by the way.

So, we spent the first twenty minutes beefing up our defenses and building an army. My standard Briton tactic is to build lots of fully upgraded Elite Longbowmen, 5 trebuchet, half a dozen priests, ten halberdiers, 5 hussars/light cavalry and twenty or so Cavaliers. That’s one army for me. I marched on my Frankish Friend2 who had a well defended base down south in England. He had lots of castles and walls and towers but few units. I kept destorying his buildings with my trebuchet, killing units with my longbowmen and using my cavaliers to kill off any enemy units who get too close. But before I could finish him off, Friend3, who turned out to be allied to Friend2 landed a force in my territory, forcing me to withdraw my army and focus on defending my ass. It was then that I realised that save a few fishing boats and 2 galleys and fireships patrolling the see between my base and Ireland, I had no navy. I did have a decent garrison though, so his invading force of elite conquistadors, crossbowmen and trebuchet was easily destroyed by my longbowmen, halberdiers and cavaliers. But it gave Friend2 enough time to salvage what units he had left and flee to France. I became the Lord of all Britain.

Quiet little Friend1, meanwhile, was plotting against me. He suddenly defected to Friend3’s side and my garrison in Ireland was butchered. Not before I managed to destroy one castle though. But alas, my source of supplies was gone and all three of my ‘friends’ were plotting against me. They also had me surrounded. I was looking at battles on 3 fronts!

I shifted focus on building a navy and gathering resources, though I did keep on raiding Friend2’s Franks. With one archer left and totally disgusted with the game, he resigned. France was mine! The Celts of Friend1 tried to land a force, only to have all their transport ships reduced to ash by my blockade of Fast Fire Ships. With it went most of the Celtic army. Almost immediately a Spanish landing attempt followed. Three of their six ships managed to reach the coast, unloading a force of forty conquistadors, 5 trebuchet and fifteen paladins. They landed at a spot I was yet to explore and their attack on my southernmost castle took me by surprise. The measly force there, of twent longbowmen and ten cavaliers was butchered and the castle destroyed. Th enemy had a foothold in Britain once again. I despatched a force of thrity cavaliers, twenty longbowmen and twenty halberdiers to re-take the castle. A quick battle followed. I lost all twenty halberdiers and ten cavaliers. But they were driven off and that was what mattered the most.

Next, I launched a naval attack on the Celts, typing up the navy while my demolition boats quickly destroyed their docks. Then I landed a force of thirty longbowmen, ten monks, five trebuchet and twenty cavaliers on their lands. I breached their defenses and took almost one third of Friend1’s lands before my army was routed in an intense battle in which I was attacked from the rear by Spanish troops.

And then the power went off thereby putting an unceremonious end to a most interesting match. I wept and cursed for hours.